"You are the branches."

Thursday night is when all the students "sortent" to hang out in Old Tours. My Bucknell group and I went out, and we even met a couple French people, who were really nice to talk to (especially because I was feeling insecure beforehand about my French). As much fun as we had, it was all the more difficult to get up this morning at 7h30 to participate in the time-honored French activity of extraordinary significance: les vendages. Grape picking.

After pulling up to the vineyard Père Augustine, we practically filed out the bus straight into the vines. At once, we were surrounded by Cabernet, Gabay, Cabernet-Sauvignon, and (my favorite) Côt. The seasonal employees, a small group of friendly français with lots of croissants to share, awaited our arrival, enjoying their coffee break. Clippers and baskets were distributed among us, and we set to work. My professor remarked that this was the sort of thing one couldn't learn in a literature class. "Certainly not," I said, "The Princesse de Clèves would not pick grapes."

It was sort of a competition among us to see who could pick the most before lunch. Of course, I won, working alongside one of the proprietors of the vineyard. We talked a little about wine in California. Of course, I don't know a lot about the harvesting of grapes and maintenance of vines. I do know, however, what Jesus had to say on the subject: "I am the vine; you are the branches." When I had time to work alone, I repeated this scripture to myself with each clip of the vine. Ask me sometime what I learned about that verse thanks to this meditation in the vineyard.

Then we had a spectacular lunch of mushrooms à la crème, pork and pickles, roast beef, and a pear flan, with four kinds of wine and some white grape juice. I brought back a bottle of Côt 2009 for my host-mom. And I slept and slept on the way home.